


Walk By Faith

by twoheadedenby



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: (sorry), OC/Canon Shipping, Other, Training Montage, but like set to a My Chemical Romance song, in which the author is desperately sad about Fray Myste, warnings for child abuse/trauma/self-harm mentions in the last chapter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2017-06-03
Packaged: 2018-11-08 09:45:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11079033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twoheadedenby/pseuds/twoheadedenby
Summary: Gabriel embarks on a difficult and dangerous new path. Fortunately, they have a guide in Sidurgu. Both of them will find themselves confronting harsh truths before the journey's end.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my friends and beta readers, without whose constant support and editorial insight, this hopelessly self-indulgent project would never have come to fruition.

Gabriel pulled their arms tight around themself, bouncing the heels of their feet as they made a futile effort to resist the biting wind that gave the Churning Mists their name. They were characteristically underdressed, and it was bothering them more than usual. Snow they were used to; snow was manageable. Not so these winds, which had a way of cutting one down to the bone as they whipped straight through you.

They could be inside right now, sharing in warmth, song, and revelry with the moogles of Moghome, as they usually did when they came through here. Today, though, they were on a mission, anxious enough to see it done with that they couldn't handle the additional stress. Moogles were loud and boisterous and awfully prone to unexpected, gaudy displays of light and colour. It was a sensory overload waiting to happen.

They had given up on trying to gauge how late Mogta was running by the position of the sun by the time he actually arrived. He flew in on a haphazard path, dipping and zigzagging without any apparent intent. He was carrying something much larger than himself, and Gabriel was faintly impressed he was able to stay in the air at all.

They caught the package out of midair as Mogta dropped it eagerly and inaccurately in their general direction. It was heavier than Gabriel was expecting, and their back made some very distressed signals to them in protest. Mogta had slumped to the ground, panting.

“Just… _Huff._ Give me… _Huff._ A second here… _Huff._ Kupo…”

Gabriel sat on the grass beside him. It seemed like the polite thing to do, and they didn’t want to stand around holding the heavy package for too long when they still had to get it all the way to Ishgard by evening. It was wrapped thoroughly but untidily in luridly-coloured wrapping paper. Setting it on the ground beside them, Gabriel patted it appreciatively. “I really can’t thank you enough, Mogta.”

“I should hope so, kupo!” Mogta puffed himself up, already feeling more like himself again. “I had to call in every favour Mogzin and his accursed gang of handimoogles owed me for this.”

“Well, for whatever it’s worth, you’ve earned a bloody big one from me in return,” said Gabriel.

“Oh, that’s happy news indeed! Everybody will have to take me seriously as the holder of a life debt from Gabriel Whitefeather! They’re still talking about the commotion you and your friends caused when you last came through here, kupo.”

“Let’s just hope that you don’t have to call in the ‘life’ part of that any time soon, eh?” Gabriel had missed Mogta, in all his ebullience. There was an easygoing comfort to it, harking back to their time together, right before everything had gone straight to hells. “Sanson and Guydelot told me to pass on their well-wishes. Guydelot hopes the songs you sing about him paint him favourably.”

“Tell him he hasn’t got too much to worry about. _Too_ much.” Mogta’s gaze shifted nervously, insofar as one could tell what a moogle’s eyes were doing at any given moment to begin with. “The two of them are still an item, then, kupo?”

“Aye. It’s hard to keep them off each other sometimes, though it’s as often because they’re bickering as not.”

Mogta sighed. “The more things change, kupo.”

“Right you are.”

“Be sure to give them my best, kupo!”

“Aye, that I will. That’ll be my debt to you repaid, after all.” Gabriel longed to stay a little longer, but they had a great deal of travelling to do yet. They got to their feet and hefted the package. “You sure this’ll do the job?”

“Worry not, kupo. Those moogles take their work seriously, when they can be cajoled into doing it at all.”

“Safe to assume I’m in good hands then. Er, paws? Thank you again, Mogta. Safe travels to you.”

“And to you, kupo!”

\---

“Was your day a fruitful one?” Coming from anyone else, Gabriel would take this to be small talk, and there was little they hated more. Sidurgu, though, would only ask out of sincere curiosity. He hated _polite conversation_ even more than they did. It was one of the crucial things they shared that made their entire arrangement work.

“Not so much, I'm afraid. I had an errand to run far afield. No time to stop and play anywhere. I'll try and make it up later on this evening.”

In the days since the end of the Dragonsong War, Gabriel had gone back to their old pastime of exchanging music for coin at any establishment that would have them. It was rather a lot of work for barely enough to make ends meet, especially now they had more mouths to feed than just their own. Still, they preferred to scrape by on the back of bawdy tavern songs for an appreciative audience of commoners than to be more amply reimbursed for sleepy ballads played to an audience of defiantly stoic nobility. You'd think there was a tax on smiling. They would angle to be booked together with Cyril whenever they were playing, as the two had formed a pact around suffering such functions together. Otherwise, Gabriel had perfected their stock response for politely declining the offers Aymeric directed their way.   
Sidurgu was nestled into the corner of the couch, studying a book. It felt like a disservice to his look of intense concentration to call it ‘reading’. Rielle was likely in her room, doing the same. They tried to keep her well-plied with reading material; Wallnund and Esca would help out by bringing a few books about this or that with them when they visited. Their effort was repaid by a voracious appetite. Rielle hadn’t had time yet to form biases, so she read anything and everything she could get her hands on. She had a lot of catching-up to do, after all, and she wanted to waste no time in doing it.

She wasn’t likely to be anywhere else. Their home in Tailfeather consisted of little else but two bedrooms and a joint kitchen and communal area. It was affordable, though, and a far better long-term living solution than an inn room at the Forgotten Knight. Life was slow here, and quiet, which suited all three of them just fine. They’d had quite enough excitement for the time being. Besides, the hunters that made up most of Tailfeather worked late into the night, and they were appreciative of a little song to keep them going, especially coming from someone who knew enough to lend them a hand at their work when needed.

Gabriel and Sidurgu both had cause to return to Ishgard fairly often, though less so by the day as the reformation efforts continued apace. Gibrillont always kept a room open for them: they were quiet, always paid up in full, and kept to themselves. Gabriel was even a boon to business on the nights they came downstairs to play. Rielle was free to come with them or stay home as she wished most of the time. She was old enough to look after herself for a couple of days at a time, and old enough to need more space and alone time than their cramped living conditions allowed for. When she accompanied them she would be chaperoned about the city, however. Neither she nor her guardians were comfortable with the thought of her roaming Ishgard alone.

Gabriel set the package down on the table in front of the couch and wasted no time in claiming their favourite spot on the couch: spread out across the entire length of it with their head in Sidurgu’s lap. He absentmindedly stroked their hair as he finished the current passage of his book and set it down. He was unlikely to get any more reading done at the minute.

Instead, his gaze turned to the item on the table. “I take it this is what’s kept you all day?”

“Aye, that’s the one! You can unwrap it and take a look, if you like.”

Sidurgu picked it up and started tearing away the wrapping, letting it fall to the floor with pointed disregard for the crude hand-drawn moogles adorning it. Gabriel watched his hands work from below, their eyes curiously following his movements. Inside lay a greatsword. It was simple in silhouette, with a simple hilt and crossguard and a blade that tapered evenly to a point along its length. The grace notes lay in the criss-cross pattern etched into the flat of the blade, and the rather ornately-appointed moogle head and wings attached to the end of the hilt.

“This is a moogle creation?” he asked, hefting it by the handle to gauge its weight.

“It is! Custom-made to specifications and all,” answered Gabriel.

“Though it pains me, I must say I’m impressed,” said Sidurgu. “It’s lightweight but sturdy, made of quality materials, built to last. The… _adornment_ here can only be described as unsightly, but it fails to hamper the sword’s function or craftsmanship.”

“High praise indeed, coming from you. Shall I tell the moogles they managed to win over the Obsidian Heart himself?”

“Not so long as I draw breath to say something about it, you won’t,” said Sidurgu. “I must say, though, it’s somewhat on the small side. I can’t quite get my hands around the hilt right.”

“That’s because it’s not for you,” said Gabriel.

“Pardon?”

“It’s for me.”

“Gabriel… Are you…”

Gabriel nodded, or something as close to it as they could get with their head propped up against Sidurgu’s thigh. “I want you to show me the path.”

“Gabriel, are you sure about this?” There was consternation in Sidurgu’s voice. “We’ve not discussed this before, there would be so much work to do, you’re not even trained in the sword… Have you thought this through?”

“Plenty, I assure you. I’ve asked myself about this every which way I could think to, but after all of it, I still chose this.”

“Are you sure you know what you’re asking?”

“Sid, I can’t count the number of times you’ve told me about what it is to be a Dark Knight. The history of it, the purpose… Not to mention seeing you in action.” Gabriel sighed. “The example you’ve set so well is a big part of what pushed me to this. I have to know if I’m capable of that much, and there’s no way of knowing but to be tested.”

“You need not walk the path on my account, Gabriel. Know that our paths will be intertwined even if they aren’t the same. Know also, and more importantly, that the love and admiration I feel for all the good you already do is great and overwhelming.”

“I can’t see the good in it myself. I’m tired of watching you and everyone else take fate into their own hands while all I can do is pray, and sing, and pick up the pieces afterwards. It’s not enough any more. And one day there might not be any pieces _left_.”

“I see.” Sidurgu weighed his next words carefully. “Forgive me, but I must ask. Is this about Esca?”

“How could it _not_ be? You didn’t see her, Sid. I didn’t think there was going to be anything left of her at Baelsar’s Wall, and then it was _worse_ to find her like that… If she’d not been breathing you’d have thought her dead. _I_ did.”

“But she isn’t. I know Esca, and I know she’ll be stubbornly waving that sword around the moment she’s well enough to do it again. You don’t need to _both_ risk your lives like that.”

“We talked about that. Mayhaps she was still near-dead and delirious after she woke up, but she actually listened to godsdamned sense when I spoke it. She’s hanging the sword up. For good. On one condition: I swore an oath that her place not go unfilled. I intend to make good on that.”

“I think she made the right choice. The world would be a poorer place without her in it. If an oath was what it took, then I’m glad for you to have made it. But I cannot, on my conscience, assist you in honouring it under those conditions. This is a choice you cannot make out of duty or obligation.”

“To tell you the truth, the choice was made before she ever opened her eyes. I had a lot of time to think in the days I spent by her bedside wondering if she would ever wake up again. The only difference the promise makes is to keep me from chickening out. Rest assured, Sid. I want to do this for myself.”

“You think yourself prepared to face the abyss? Prepared for the abyss to face _you_?”

“All I can say is I’ll try my damnedest.”

“Good answer. I’ll think on all we’ve spoken about and give you my answer tomorrow.”

“Thank you. That’s all I ask.”

Sidurgu leaned down and pressed a kiss into Gabriel’s forehead. “I would give you a lot more than just that.”

“Gabriel, you’re home!” Rielle called out from the doorway of her room. Gabriel and Sidurgu both jumped a little. “I thought I heard you talking. Does this mean dinner is soon?”

“It absolutely _can_ mean that,” said Gabriel, rising to their feet. They gave Sidurgu a kiss on the cheek in return and beckoned Rielle over for a hug. “Do you want to help me get things ready? After all, there’s no time like the present.”

Sidurgu returned to his book. He was having a hard time thinking about the words contained in it.


	2. Chapter 2

Gabriel’s ass hit the ground with a forceful _whumpf_ , kicking up a cloud of dust around the site of impact. The sword they had been holding clattered uselessly to the ground beside them.

“Your centre of gravity is off.” Sidurgu’s voice admonished them from overhead.

“I’m damn well aware of that,” groused Gabriel. “Else I wouldn’t be taking a dust bath right now.”

“You’re right. That was obvious of me. Here.” Sidurgu held his hand out and Gabriel took it gratefully, allowing him to haul them onto their feet as they scrabbled to grab the sword with their free hand.

Gabriel released their grip on Sidurgu’s arm, a little reluctantly. They brushed the dust off themself, feeling chagrined. “I’m sorry. It’s not your fault.”

“Perhaps if I were a better teacher,” Sidurgu offered.

“Nonsense,” replied Gabriel curtly. “Esca learned a lot from you. So have I, even if swinging a sword ain’t part of it yet.”

“Esca didn’t come to me a fledgling,” said Sigurgu. “She had already learned much of our arts from...”

He trailed off. The pair stared at their feet in silence. It was still a difficult subject for them. Fray had left a large void in Sidurgu’s life, and Gabriel knew they were helpless to do much to patch it up. In their darker moments this had been a source of some fleeting jealousy in them, and more often one of great sorrow. That Sidurgu had lost so much, that they might never meet the person who had meant so much to him. A heartfelt resolve to build a brighter future together only went so far whenever the past bared its fangs like this.

“You’re more than teacher enough, Sid,” they said after a time. “I only wish I were a fit pupil.”

“Why did you come to me to teach you to walk the path, again?” asked Sidurgu.

“You know perfectly well.”

“I do. But I want to hear it from you.”

“I...” Gabriel faltered. “I’ve lost too much. Those I love have lost too much. All the while those who took it from us hide behind politics and statutes, that justice might be served too late if at all. And for too long I’ve allowed others to to risk everything to put a stop to it, too afraid to put my own hide on the line for what I believe in. I’m done with being a coward.”

“Do not mistake fear for cowardice, Gabriel.” Sidurgu placed a hand on their shoulder. “Fear can be an anchor. Had you nothing at stake, nothing you valued enough to fear losing, you might be of no use to anyone.”

“I’m of no use to anyone cowering behind them and _singing_ while blood is being shed, either.”

“I have heard the conviction in your voice when you sing in battle. No coward could possess such faith.”

“Faith’s not worth much at the end of the day. What good’s faith to a corpse?”

“Faith is everything, Gabriel. All the fine technique and fine equipment and raw aether in the world means nothing if the person wielding it stands for nothing. It is faith that drives us to fight, and faith that drives us to keep fighting again, and again, and again when we are defeated.”

“I don’t suppose swordsmanship and full plate have ought to do with it, then.”

“Tools, Gabriel. Nothing more. Strip a man of his convictions and he may as well be wearing paper armour.”

“You may be right,” said Gabriel, in the tones of one who knows they have lost a debate, but isn’t quite ready to accept the new way of thinking necessitated by it. “But even allowing for the line between fear and cowardice, there’s no good reason someone can’t be _both_.”

“Think, Gabriel. What coward could so readily win my heart?”

“I s’pose that much is true,” said Gabriel. “It’s a reckless fool who takes it upon themself to pierce _your_ thorny hide.”

Sidurgu bristled, mouth open to defend himself. He softened, however. “Indeed. And a greater fool yet bold enough to mock me for it. Best be on your guard, young Whitefeather.”

Gabriel laughed. It pealed like a bell across the still night, competing only with the crackle of distant campfires to be heard. Gabriel had insisted they wait until dead of night to practice, lest anyone in Tailfeather see them. It wasn’t much of an imposition on either of them. Keepers of the Moon like Gabriel preferred to be awake at night regardless, and Sidurgu had no great fondness for the sun himself, nor the complexion to weather it well. It led to their rising late in the day indeed, but Rielle relished having run of the house for the early hours, so it was a schedule that worked. They were both light sleepers, too; they were only ever one sufficiently alarming sound away from full wakefulness.

“Well,” said Gabriel, brandishing their practice sword anew. “Shall we get back to it?”

“I don’t see why not,” said Sidurgu, concealing a smile with marginal success. “Assume your stance.”

Gabriel nodded, squaring their feet and lifting their sword to their shoulder, point angled forward and down.

“Good.” Sidurgu planted a forceful hand on their shoulder, not enough to harm them but enough to send someone of their slight stature off-balance. Gabriel held their ground, cutting small grooves in the ground as they slid backwards through the loose dirt but not breaking posture. Sidurgu nodded his approval.

“Now,” he said, “gather that fear inside you. Don’t allow it to dictate your actions. Simply acknowledge it for what it is, and know that it has to reckon with every onze of conviction in your body before it can have its way. And all _you_ have to do to put it to rest for good is hit that striking dummy.”

Gabriel tightened their grip on the sword hilt. Their palms were sweating.

“When you’re ready.”

Gabriel dashed forward, teeth gritted, eyes closed. They lowered their arms and, after what felt like an eternity of running in place, brought it up and across in a diagonal upwards slash.

The sword blade streaked through the air with no resistance. Its weight lifted Gabriel once more off their feet, and they felt a sickening lurch in their stomach as they fell backwards.

This time, they didn’t hit the ground. Sidurgu had caught them, one hand around their waist and the other on their arm to still the sword-swing. Gabriel sunk into his arms for a moment, startled. When they had their bearings, they returned unsteadily to their feet. They were shaking.

“Gabriel...” started Sidurgu.

“I know, okay! It didn’t fucking work! All the talk in the world is only ever going to be _talk!_ There’s not enough faith to ever make me able to swing a fucking sword!” Gabriel could feel their face burning, hot tears carving marks in their cheeks.

“No, Gabriel.” Sidurgu still had his arm around them, and he tugged them gently towards the dummy. “Look.”

He held their free hand in his, and raised it to the dummy’s crude approximation of a ‘chest’. He guided their grasp until their fingers found purchase in a score running from its shoulder across where its ribcage would end if it were a person. He spoke softly into their ear. “This was you, Gabriel.”

“Is it really?” Gabriel’s voice was tremulous, but even they couldn’t deny that the striking dummy had borne no such mark only moments earlier.

“On my honour.” He squeezed Gabriel’s hand in his, letting their fingers interlock. “Your swordsmanship needs refinement-”

“ _That’s_ an understatement if I’ve ever heard one.”

“…be that as it may. This is one ruffian that won’t be terrorising the good people of Tailfeather ever again.”

Gabriel laughed, still teary and congested enough that it came out as a sputter. “I suppose not.”

“Now, while this scoundrel has breathed his last, you’re still standing. So long as that holds true, there will always be time for you to grow and improve. You need only keep that faith alive.”

“So long as you stay patient enough to teach me, maybe.”

“You could be making far slower progress than this, and I would still be here to teach you every day you found it in you to take up the sword. Not today, though. Sunrise isn’t far away, and I know how you get without your beauty sleep.”

“Thank you, Sid. Truly.” Gabriel turned and hugged him tight, burying their face in his chest. Sidurgu could detect a faint sniffle buried by his armour.

“Think nothing of it,” he said, rubbing circles in their back with his gauntlet. “After all, I have a rather personal stake in your continued good looks.”

“Shut up and come to bed with me.”

“Gladly.”


	3. Chapter 3

“I feel ridiculous. Do I look ridiculous?”

“I wouldn’t say that,” answered Sidurgu. Gabriel thought that they should have known better than to assume he would commit to an opinion on the question at hand. Not that he wasn’t often appreciative when Gabriel put effort into their appearance (as they nearly always did), but he was always happy to sacrifice his personal aesthetic appeal for functionality. Gabriel was not.

“You mightn’t, but I damn well would,” said Gabriel.

They were clad from the neck down in dark, burnished plate armour, rendering their silhouette far wider and squarer. Their self-consciousness was quickly giving way to irritation as the armour trapped more and more heat and sweat from the balmy night air.

“You have to learn to fight in armour eventually, Gabriel,” said Sidurgu. Gabriel wondered if he had noticed how much more sure-sounding his instruction had become since they had begun training together.

“Did it have to be _tonight_? I can scarce see the moon through the sweat in my eyes.”

“Tonight is as good as any. Armour like that is going to make you sweat under any conditions.”

“Then what’s the use of it?”

“That’s what I’m here to demonstrate, if you’ll allow me.”

Gabriel made a disgruntled sound. Their gratitude to Sidurgu for the time and energy he had devoted to their instruction obliged them to meet his teachings with an open mind, but they didn’t have to be _happy_ about it.

“That’s the way. Now take up your sword.”

Both of them were holding long wooden sparring swords, worn with age and use but still sturdy. They assumed their battle stances, becoming as familiar to Gabriel now as it had been to Sidurgu for a great many seasons.

“On my mark,” said Sidurgu, “I’m going to come at you. Ready your defences.”

Gabriel nodded, trying to make some last-minute adjustments to their grip. It was extremely difficult to keep a firm grasp on it in those cumbersome metal gauntlets. They wished they could wipe the sweat beading at their brow.

“Ready...”

“Now!”

Sidurgu charged, sword raised, towards Gabriel. He swung, and Gabriel raised their sword to block his strike. However, he hit with such force that both of their swords collided with Gabriel’s chest. It hit with enough force that they couldn’t help but make a wordless exclamation.

“Don’t let yourself be thrown off guard by a hit like that,” said Sidurgu, swinging at Gabriel once more. “There will always be more where that came from.”

Gabriel instinctively tried to duck, but the plate they were wearing didn’t allow them to bend so, and Sidurgu’s sword came down hard on their shoulder. They almost dropped their weapon due to the shock reverberating through their arm. Instead, they redoubled their grip on the hilt and thrust toward Sidurgu, hoping to catch him off-guard.

The hit connected, but Sidurgu didn’t even flinch. He was a sturdy man, and well-armoured besides, but even that didn’t account for the lack of force Gabriel felt in their sword. It recalled their earliest training sessions, where they scarcely knew how to swing it. The sensation of backwards progress was not a welcome one.

“Gabriel, focus!” called Sidurgu, evidently aware of their wandering thoughts. He brought his sword down over their head.

Gabriel blocked, but too late. They were unable to catch the blow on their sword, so much as deflect so that it collided with their shoulder again instead of their chest or, Gods forbid, their head. It was the same shoulder that had taken the last hit, and this one stung sharper as a result. Sidurgu was readying his next swing when Gabriel put one hand up towards him in a gesture imploring him to wait.

“Is something the matter?” asked Sidurgu, lowering his arms.

“You could say that,” answered Gabriel. “It’s just that my arm fucking hurts, because you hit like an aurochs, and I couldn’t move in this armour to – literally – save my life.”

Sidurgu sighed. “I understand. I’m afraid all I can tell you is that it will get easier with time.”

“It might get easier for _you_ ,” Gabriel fired back. “But I’m hardly a tall, strapping Au Ra, am I? Nor, with all due respect – you _know_ how handsome I think you are – do I particularly care to be.”

“A dark knight is the first and last line of defence in the war against injustice. You can’t trust in having anyone to protect you but yourself.”

“I’d have an easier time defending myself in the nude than in this sweltering metal prison,” complained Gabriel.

“I very much doubt that.”

A glint shone in Gabriel’s eye. “I’ll prove it, then.”

“What are you talking about?”

Gabriel unfastened their cuirass, tossing it aside. They continued with each piece of the cumbersome armour until they were standing barefoot in just an undershirt and leggings. Stretching a couple of times for good measure, they picked the practice sword back up and pointed it towards Sidurgu. “Let’s try this again.”

“Gabriel, please. This is foolish.”

“I’m serious. Attack me, just like before.”

“Gabriel-”

“Trust me.”

Sidurgu made a half-hearted swing at Gabriel, clearly sluggish and reluctant. Gabriel jumped back from the blow effortlessly, chiding him. “Come on, I know you can give me more than that!”

Sidurgu thrust toward Gabriel with a little more force. They twisted out of the way, managing to keep their sword pointed at Sidurgu the entire time. They nudged his chest with the tip of their sword, teasingly.

They exchanged blows a few more times, with Sidurgu on the offensive and Gabriel nimbly keeping themself just out of range of his sword. Until, finally, Sidurgu charged again, sword raised over his head. Gabriel neatly sidestepped the downward swing, but they hadn’t anticipated the backswing, which caught them square in the side and sent them flying.

Sidurgu threw his sword aside and hurried over to where they had landed, face-up in the dirt with their eyes unfocused, seeing stars. Sidurgu hovered, unsure of what to do with Gabriel laid out listlessly on the ground and starting to fret. After a few agonising moments, their eyes blinked and they came to, looking up at him.

“Gods, Gabriel, I’m so sorry.” Sidurgu extended his hand for them to grab onto.

Gabriel giggled, then winced and sucked air through their teeth when their weight shifted from the ground to Sidurgu. Once they were back on their feet they were giggling once more, even though the action was clearly causing them considerable pain.

“What in the heavens is so funny?” asked Sidurgu. “Something might be broken!”

“Yeah, y-” Gabriel winced again. “You really did a number on me. But I won the bigger victory here.”

“I fail to see how.”

“I was right!”

“You plainly weren’t! I hit you fair and square.” Sidurgu’s voice rung with a pang of remorse.

“That you bloody did. But- _ah_ , but before you- _ow_ , did me in, look how much better I handled those blows!”

“You did, as a matter of fact.” Sidurgu was starting to see their point more clearly. “At first. But without armour, it took just one hit. If you take a hit like than in a real battle, your opponents won’t be using wooden swords.”

“Aye. There’s considerable room for improvement.” Gabriel’s eyes had lit up with a spark. “But that’s my point exactly – there _is_ room for improvement. There’s only, _ow_ , so much we can do about my physical strength, _ow_ , and nothing at all for my stature. But with training I can make myself a real slippery target. Far slipperier than, _ow_ , a hulking great Au Ra, for instance.”

“You may be on to something after all,” he conceded. “But I still have my doubts. I won’t consign the life of my lover to the whims of fate and the blades of cruel men.”

_Not again_.

Sidurgu didn’t voice what was on his mind, but Gabriel picked up on the edge in his voice. They squeezed his hand reassuringly, hoping it was warm to his touch. They winced as the action sent another bolt of pain shooting up their side.

“I know, and you won’t. I swear.” They spoke without an onze of the good humour that had suffused their voice only moments earlier. “I know a thing or two about working leather. Good, tough hide, flexible where it matters, plate bolted onto everywhere I can get away with it. Another hit like that one might sting awful hard, but with your training I ought to end up in better shape than the other fellow, at least.”

Sidurgu listened and relaxed as much as he could allow himself to. His grip on Gabriel’s hand did not loosen. “If I have your word on it, I think we may be able to modify your training gear and regimen to suit. As long as you agree not to charge into the thick of things in armour that hasn’t passed my _personal_ muster.”

“You know I like to dress to your tastes anyway.” Gabriel smiled at him, their eyes gentle and a little sad. “I think you’ve got yourself a deal.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Talk of future training aside, however, I do think tonight’s session might be over.”

“Aye, _some_ of us have war wounds in need of tending to.” Gabriel poked experimentally at the flowering bruise on their ribcage and gasped in surprise when it inevitably hurt.

“Indeed,” said Sidurgu. “Although we’ll have to do something about all this discarded equipment.”

“Would you mind terribly if I sent you back out for it?” asked Gabriel. “I fear I’m in no condition for heavy lifting right now.”

“Of course, Gabriel. I can fetch it while you rest, so long as you don’t grow accustomed to it. I’m your tutor, not your maidservant.”

“I should hope you’re a good deal more than _that_ to me,” said Gabriel. “So worry not. I owe you so much more already than one night’s tidying-up.”

Their other arm had moved to Sidurgu’s waist, gingerly wrapped around him for as much support as could be managed without touching their tender side to his armour as they walked, arm-in-arm, back towards their home.

“Speaking of which, I hope your nursing skills are – _ow!_ – up to snuff.”

“Stop poking at it! I’ll not bother with first aid at all if you so clearly want to be in pain.”

“Your bedside manner could use some work, I see.”

Their chatter carried through the still night air, unheard by another soul.


	4. Chapter 4

Gabriel kept their eyes fixed to the floor as they made their way through the Ishgardian infirmary. They knew where they were going, and had politely declined assistance from staff in finding their way there. They hated places like this. The sterile spotlessness of its halls and practised friendliness of its staff could not mask the ugly face of things Gabriel would not willingly confront. They counted room numbers under their breath and made turns they had memorised early on, for want of not having to process what was happening in these halls every time they visited.

They stopped themselves at the room number they were looking for, cautiously prying the door open. Their heart stopped momentarily when they saw the bed inside empty, though this was not the first time. Esca would often be occupied elsewhere, undergoing rehabilitation or simply taking in the outside air. Gabriel would nonetheless expect the worst each and every time.

Today, at least, she was still in her room. Her back to the door, Esca was standing at the window, eyes fixed on the outside world, with only the occasional flick of her tail to indicate movement. Gabriel took heart in this; it was the first time they had seen her standing under her own weight since she had been brought to this godsforsaken place.

They cleared their throat to announce their presence, the noise cutting sharp across the stifling silence all around them. Esca turned slowly to face them, using the windowsill to support herself as she pivoted in place. Gabriel was sure she hated how frail she looked in that moment, as much as they hated the sight of her trying to reconcile the Gabriel standing before her with the Gabriel she had known so long.

It wasn’t as though they had been transformed in their absence – they were still short, built of wiry muscle masked by tan, chubby skin. The differences were smaller ones: their hair had been allowed to grow out into shaggy, sun-bleached tips, their features more weathered and missing a certain softness, their profile somehow fuller, giving the sense that they simply took up more space. It looked as if they had aged two years in the last six moons, and the changes were not welcome ones.

“Gabriel.” Esca hobbled towards them, her balance instantly becoming less sure without something to lean on. Her steps were jagged and uneven, and every one of them burned her twofold, painful and humiliating in equal measure. When she reached Gabriel she leaned forward to embrace them, but the action sent her toppling off-balance. Gabriel swooped to catch her, wincing as she landed in their gauntleted hands.

They feared they might have bruised her. It sent a sick jolt through their stomach. Esca didn’t bruise. Not from being held. They had seen her injured in battle far more often than they would like, but the last word they would ever use to describe her was _fragile_. Buried in them since they were fifteen years old was some ingrained, unchallenged belief that she was their sturdy protector, able and willing to weather the storms that they could not. Now she was collapsed into their arms, frighteningly lighter to Gabriel than she had ever been.

They laid her out on the sickbed, lowering her gingerly onto the mattress. She hauled herself up immediately, swinging her legs onto the floor and leaning her weight onto them. Gabriel threw a hand up in protest.

“Sit,” they said, swallowing a lump in their throat. “Please. Just… sit, for a moment. Please.”

Esca halted, begrudgingly. Gabriel pulled up a chair and sat down opposite her, their face etched with concern. Esca twisted her body in discomfort. “I’m fine.”

“Maybe so, but _I’m_ not,” said Gabriel. “You know how I worry.”

“Surely you’ve got better things to worry about than me.”

“You’re right. I’d have gone digging through that rubble for anyone.”

Esca grunted, trying to deflect the sarcasm. “Maybe. You’re made of kinder stuff than I.”

“I’m not that kind.” Gabriel gazed distantly towards the window.

“I’m getting better,” she said. “So stop worrying.”

“You’re not better _yet_. I don’t want you to undo all of it by pushing yourself too fast or too hard.” Gabriel paused. “I don’t want to see you like that again.”

“And you think I do?”

“Of course not. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I could stand to take it a little easier.”

“I appreciate it.”

“Don’t mention it.” Esca sighed and made herself more comfortable on the bed.

“Oh! I almost forgot, I got you something.” Gabriel fished around in their bag until they located a small wrapped package, pulling it out with care not to crush it in their gauntlet. They thrust it inelegantly towards Esca, half excited and half nervous.

Esca tore the wrapping to shreds with little regard for neatness or ceremony. Inside lay a handful of pressed flowers in three colours; pink, purple, and red. She held them up for examination. “Carnations?”

“They’re your favourite, right?”

“Gods, I can’t believe you remember that.”

“Ever the sentimental fool, eh? I just figured you could do with some colour around here.”

Esca swallowed the lump in her throat. A sentimental gesture called for a sentimental response, but she wasn’t about to give it the satisfaction. A curt ‘thank you’ was all it would get. One glance at Gabriel told her they could read between the lines regardless. She pushed forward past her embarrassment, abruptly changing the subject. “So how’s your training going, anyway?”

Gabriel shrugged. “It’s hard. I don’t get a lot of time off. And it’s... scary. But what isn’t, really? I’m keeping up and that’s what matters.”

“I hope Sid isn’t overworking you.”

“You know how Sid is. He’s… inflexible, but he’s not a taskmaster. Besides, I think he knows I’m giving myself a hard enough time for both of us.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“I have to.”

“And _he’s_ the one that’s inflexible.”

“I just mean-”

“It’s okay. I understand.” Esca tugged the drawer on her bedside table open and fished out a small wooden box. “I actually got you something, too. Which is to say, I had Thancred get you something while he was running errands for me.”

She pressed the box into Gabriel’s hands. They fumbled with the clasp to pry it open, with none of the grace or finesse they usually carried in their fingers. They were still clearly unused to wearing armour on their hands. The box’s insides were lined with paper, and upon the paper rested a pair of objects: A small, jagged gemstone and a metal hairpin.

Gabriel picked the stone up between the thumb and forefinger of their left hand. It was slightly heavier than it looked, engraved with a plain design. It was a soul crystal. Gabriel held it up to the light from the window, studying the translucent red glow that resulted. Having identified it, they placed it carefully back into the box.

They had both discussed this earlier. Esca had no more use for the stone, and Gabriel would be severely limited by not having one. Nonetheless, holding it in their hands made the pact between them uncomfortably real, to say nothing of the ends they would have to use it to.

“Relax,” said Esca, fully aware of their current train of thought. “You’ll figure it out. I know you will.”

“I’m scared.”

“I know.”

“I don’t want to go back there. I don’t want to become that person again.”

“That person died in the Calamity.”

“Maybe.”

“You know why you’re doing this. You know who you’re doing this for. You won’t lose sight of that.”

Gabriel shook their head. “How do you know?”

“Because I won’t let you. Look in the box again.”

They pulled the hairpin out. They realised after a few moments that they recognised the design. The last time they had seen it, it had been battered beyond recognition, but someone with a skilled hand for smithing had beaten in back into shape. Esca had been wearing it before the events at Baelsar’s Wall.

“I hope it’s a better good luck charm for you than it ever was for me,” she said.

“You know what Sid would say about relying on luck to protect you,” replied Gabriel with a wan smile.

Esca rolled her eyes. “To hell with Sid, then.”

“Hey, now. That’s my _paramour_ you’re talking about.” Their voice was laced with mock self-righteousness, a note of good humour piercing their anxiety.

Esca snorted. “The two of you are still going strong, then.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess you could say that.” Gabriel fidgeted anxiously. “I think things are getting pretty serious between us, to tell the truth.”

“I’ll be damned. Strong words coming from you.”

Gabriel made a sound halfway between a sigh and a laugh. “I guess so. All I can say is he makes me... happy. Happier than I know how to be, sometimes.”

“I can tell.” Esca reached out a hand to still Gabriel’s fidgeting, resting it on one of their wrists. “It makes me happy, too, you know. Seeing you like this. Whatever you’ve got, hold onto it.”

Gabriel turned their hand over, resting Esca’s palm in theirs and placing their other hand over the top. “I plan to.”

“Good.”

They sat together for a time, occasionally reminiscing about past journeys, trading small talk about what their friends were up to, mocking each other over their love lives. More often, they sat in comfortable silence, savouring the stillness of the moment, crystalline and unmoving against the gears that both knew must be turning elsewhere, carrying them towards a doubtful future.

When the sun had passed far enough overhead that Gabriel knew they had to leave, lest they make it back to the Forgotten Knight after dusk, they placed a silent kiss on Esca’s forehead and made for the door. Sidurgu and Rielle had come up from Tailfeather with them for support. It was easier to leave Esca’s side with something to come back to. They clutched the wooden box tight to their chest the whole way back, as if it might vanish if it left their grasp.


	5. Chapter 5

“Ah, Gabriel, you’re-”

Gabriel threw their arms around Sidurgu the moment he opened the door for them, startling the words right out of his mouth. Standing on their tiptoes with their head nestled affectionately into his shoulder, they finished his sentence on his behalf. “Home.”

It was a peculiar thing to say about an inn room many malms from where either of them lived, but that didn’t make it untrue.

“And Esca? How is she?” asked Sidurgu, as the two disentangled from each other.

“She’s… better,” said Gabriel. “A lot better. She’s walking again.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Give her my best regards when next you see her, will you?”

“Of course. Not that she’ll believe me.”

“Does she truly think me that cold?”

“Relax, I’m teasing you. Though I think she could rightfully accuse you of giving your other pupil special treatment.”

“Well, I’ll not stand for _that_.” Sidurgu said, deadpan enough that Gabriel couldn’t be entirely sure he was joking. While they were puzzling it out, he gestured toward the box held in their hand. “A gift?”

“Oh! Yes. For me, I’m afraid. But, well, let me show you, let me...” Gabriel babbled as they pried the box open to show Sidurgu the contents. “Here.”

Sidurgu plucked the hairpin from its resting place in the box, holding it up for appraisal. “Ah. I recognise this. It was Esca’s, no?”

“Aye, that it was. S’pose it’s mine now though.” They cocked their head to the side. “You want to see me in it?”

“Indeed I would.” He fumbled for some time in affixing it, struggling as always to marshal his fingers with the precision he required of them. Gabriel, for their part, stayed still and patient all the while, flashing him a gentle smile of quiet encouragement from time to time.

“Well then! How do I look?” said Gabriel, stepping back to give him a better look when he was done.

“You look...” His tongue, like his fingers, could be slower on the uptake than he cared for. Moments like this, in particular, were never going to be his strong suit.

“Fetching?” supplied Gabriel, in good humour but not in jest, happy to help bridge the gap between Sidurgu’s intent and his words.

“That will have to do,” he said. He gestured at the box’s remaining contents, though he would not touch the gem contained within. “And am I to take it that this was also hers?”

“Indeed,” said Gabriel. “Which means no more putting this off, doesn’t it?”

“Not necessarily,” said Sidurgu. “I would not ask you to do anything you felt ill-prepared for. Though, for whatever you think it worth, I believe you’re ready.”

“I think it’s worth an awful lot, as a matter of fact,” replied Gabriel. “Matter of fact, why don’t we head outside now? ...Before I get cold feet.”

\---

The pair sat outside, seated side-by-side on the ground, leaning against a wall in a secluded part of the Brume. They came here often to train together, or sometimes just for a quiet place to talk and enjoy each other’s company, away from distractions or responsibilities. Very few people came by here, and those who did typically did so with bad intentions. Nobody dared bother Sidurgu, though, assuming with good reason that it would be against their best interests to tangle with him.

Gabriel sat with their legs crossed, the soul crystal held in the palm of their bare hand. Sidurgu had insisted it wasn’t necessary to remove their gloves, but they were adamant. There was some ineffable sense of _rightness_ to it; feeling its curious temperature – hardly warm, but not as cool as it seemed as though it should be – and hard edges against bare skin. They stared intently at it, feeling somewhat at a loss. “What’s supposed to happen, exactly?”

“Close your eyes,” Sidurgu told them. “Open your heart and mind. Focus inwards, seek out the most hidden parts of your self. Call out to that which you cannot see, and when it answers, listen.”

“Got it,” Gabriel lied. They did as they were told, insofar as they in fact understood what they had been told. They closed their eyes and tried to sift through the thoughts floating at the surface of their mind: _How does this work? What will I find? What if I fail? What if I don’t?_

Later, they would be unable to say when exactly they had gone under. There had been no sudden epiphany, no bolt of insight lighting up the space behind their eyelids. The transition had been gradual and imperceptible. They did not notice when the sounds and smells and biting chill of Ishgard fell away, and they did not notice when they arrived somewhere else. It felt as though they had always been here.

_Gabriel is five or six years old. They are crying as they trail behind their parents. They didn’t get ready to leave on time so they have nobody to blame but themself for the fact that they are now walking barefoot through the Thanalan desert. The scorching sand burning their skin is their own fault. A voice tells them to stop crying right now, that they are slowing everybody down. This only makes them cry louder and louder, until a hand strikes them across the face. They are not crying now; they have been shocked into silence and the burning of their feet is drowned out by the sharp, hot sting of their cheek. In this moment, something twisted and spiteful takes root inside of them. Good, says the voice. I won’t have you embarrassing us like that._

_Gabriel is ten years old now. This time they are being struck across the back, and instead of just once it happens again and again, as it has happened for years. Still they do not cry, but neither are they shocked into silence any more. They kick their legs and fight the grasp pinning them down and when the pain lances across their back they scream, although they know nobody who can hear them will pay them any mind. The thing inside them has bloomed now, and it tells them that they cannot endure this, that if they are too weak to fight back then they have no choice but to do as they are told to prevent it happening again. Gabriel asks it what they should do if they cannot do as they are told and it tells them that they do not have a choice._

_Gabriel is thirteen and they have taken the first new choice that presented itself, paying no heed to the risks. They are ragged and sore after the journey, buffeted carelessly about among the other goods in the merchant caravan they had stowed away in. They are scared and lost, too; they had not prepared for anything that might await them at the end of the journey. They aren’t thinking straight when one of the merchants offers them a share of his mead, they do not notice him grinning and nudging his compatriot as they drink and screw their face up at the taste. That’ll put some fire in your veins, he says. Later that night they do indeed feel warm, and their thoughts are too sluggish for them to notice that they shouldn’t be, that they are in a single layer of thin cotton in the snowfield they have wandered out to, away from the fire. The snow is soft and they are warm and when they get drowsy enough it’s the easiest thing in the world for them to lay down right where they are. The thing inside them tells them that this is good, that this is better than the alternative._

_Gabriel is only a year older this time, and again they feel warm when they know they shouldn’t. This time, however, they know why: they look down and see the snow under their feet blossoming red. They realise they have never seen this much of their own blood before as it runs down their side in a steady flow. They realise next that they should be alarmed by this, afraid. They are not. The thing inside them tells them that this makes sense, that they have done the right thing._ Gabriel. _They are seized by someone’s hands and pulled away through the snow._

“Gabriel!”

The only hands on them were Sidurgu’s, shaking them out of their reverie. They could taste harsh words on their tongue that they could not remember saying; the words echoed in their head as if they had heard them said by someone else. They were shaking, and the crystal had slipped from their fingers to lay on the stones at their feet. Sidurgu looked concerned.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“I wasn’t ready.”

“Relax,” said Sidurgu, rubbing their shoulders gracelessly but with all the affection he could muster. The gesture, and more importantly the sentiment behind it cut through Gabriel’s shock and grounded them, however tenuously, in reality.

“I’m sorry,” said Gabriel, leaning their weight into Sidurgu, not trusting themself to stay upright without support. He could feel them still trembling. “I thought I was ready. _You_ thought I was ready. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t… Wasn’t…”

“You’ve been through quite an ordeal,” said Sidurgu, holding Gabriel as steady as he could. “We don’t have to continue today. We don’t have to continue at all, should you wish.”

“I don’t know. I don’t know any more.”

“You don’t have to come to a decision now.”

“I don’t want this to have all been a waste of time.” Gabriel was grabbing and prodding at their side as they spoke, to a degree Sidurgu found alarming.

“Are you injured?” He was resisting the urge to still their arm and take a look for himself, knowing that it couldn’t possibly help matters at the minute.

“No, it’s not-- I don’t think so.” Gabriel held out the palm of their hand, scrutinising it for something that wouldn’t reveal itself. “It’s that-- My scar. It feels as though it’s reopened.”

It was impossible, of course. The lack of blood was confirmation enough, but Sidurgu had seen the scar in question; a jagged ribbon of raised skin that cut across their ribcage like a tally mark. It was fully healed, and had to be several years old by now. He knew from scars, old and new. He knew, for instance, that no matter how fervently Gabriel insisted otherwise, the distinctive scar on their cheek came not from battle. He knew this too about the telltale marks across their upper arms: he burned with embarrassment recalling the questions he had asked so bluntly before realising that he needn’t ask and Gabriel needn’t answer. They had been halting but candid in talking about it, curious too about the litany of old injuries adorning Sidurgu’s body where his scales could not protect him. About the scar on their side, though, they had said nothing, unwilling to even venture a half-convincing lie. Sidurgu knew only one thing: whoever or whatever gave it to them had been trying to kill them, and may have come awfully close to succeeding.

“Do you want me to take a look?” asked Sidurgu. They both knew that there was nothing physically wrong, but there was a world of difference between knowing and peace of mind.

Gabriel shook their head, though they were still frowning intently at the problem area. “Thank you, but I’m okay. I’ll be okay. Would you mind… Could we just… talk, for now?”

“By all means,” said Sidurgu. “What’s on your mind?”

“I never told you how I got this scar, did I.” It wasn’t a question. “I’ve never told anyone, actually.”

“You don’t have to start now. That which the abyss showed you is no-one’s business but your own.”

“I want to. I promise. I can’t make sense of it on my own.”

“As you wish, then. Please, go on.”

“It happened when I was living at the Observatorium,” Gabriel began. “I’d not been there long – a year at most – but long enough to have fallen into a certain rhythm. I had a sense of what to expect from life there, of what each day would bring. Certainly, I knew enough about the way things should be that I knew damn well how out of the ordinary it was the day the guards hurried everyone indoors and told us to stay put there.

“Fool that I was, _of course_ I took the first available opportunity to sneak out and see what all the fuss was about. The scene outside was an eerie one: I’d never seen the grounds so _empty_ before then, and I never did again. Not that anywhere called the _First Dicasterial Observatorium of Aetherial and Astrological Phenomena_ is going to be anyone’s idea of a thriving cultural melting pot, but there was a healthy sort of hustle and bustle as the Ishgardian scholars busied themselves filling journal upon journal that nobody but the poor miqo’te vagabond tasked with filing them would ever look at again.

“Anyway, on this day in particular there was none of that. There wasn’t a soul in sight, which was odd enough in its own right, but then there was that _sound_. I couldn’t see aught but the wind and snow, so it came as quite a shock to hear that unearthly bellowing and crashing in the midst of all that stillness. I headed for the source of it, which is the second time that day I turned my back on the safe and sensible course of action.

“The source, as it turned out, was a wounded goobbue at the gates. Who knows what’d gotten to it in the first place. Wolves, maybe, or Ixal trappers. There’s no shortage of things that can do you a world of hurt in the Highlands. At any rate, the poor thing had found its way to the Observatorium in a blind rage, and it was lashing out at anything in arm’s reach.

“The third and by far stupidest bad decision I made that day was to take out my bow. I wasn’t even supposed to have it on me, as I’d been reminded countless times. How _unsightly_ it was to move about a place of _research_ armed like that, and so on. Eventually they’d given up arguing, though. I could be awful stubborn in those days, unlike the even-tempered, level-headed Gabriel you know now.

“I don’t actually remember making the decision to take the shot. Thinking on it now I feel like a passenger, watching someone else pull that string back. Of course, I scarce knew how to use the bloody thing in those days, and goobbue hide is _tough_. I accomplished nothing more than making it angrier than ever and focused entirely on me. Maybe I’d have been okay if I’d turned and run just then, but I didn’t feel a shred of fear that might have saved my hide, to say nothing of common sense.

“I loosed as many arrows into it as I could before it was upon me. It didn’t even break stride. Things get hazy after that. I remember falling in the snow, and this terrible weight pinning me there. Desperately wriggling to keep it from tearing me in two. I remember, vividly, when I managed to get my hunting knife into its eye. That was more or less the end of it, save for some final, desperate flailing. What an ignoble death for a creature who’d never done anybody any wrong.

“I was in such a frenzy during the struggle that I hadn’t even felt the rent it tore in my side. It wasn’t until I was walking away… Well, _trying_ to walk away, that I realised I was bleeding, and how. I was surprised to see how much blood I was losing, but not scared. It still didn’t hurt. I didn’t feel much of _anything,_ save for a curious sense of satisfaction. I couldn’t put words to it then, but I know now that this was what I’d been hoping for from the moment I set foot outside.

“I must have collapsed after that, because I don’t remember anything but the faintest fragments until I woke up in bed. I was told I’d been out cold for two days, and that it’s a miracle I’d woken up at all. I’d needed stitches, and I’d lost a near-fatal amount of blood. The pain had finally caught up with me, all at once it felt like. I’ve never been in as much pain in my life as in the days I spent recovering in that bed. Sitting up was enough to bring me to tears.

“Still, I thought, I’d done some good to show for it. At least, that was what I thought while I was barely lucid. As soon as my condition improved and everyone could be sure I wasn’t about to die, I was in for the lecture of a lifetime. They asked me what I could possibly have been _thinking,_ how _ungrateful_ must I be. I told them I had done what seemed right, asked them why they weren’t gladder to be rid of that rampaging beast.

“It would have wandered off and died in peace, they told me. All I’d done was make it suffer more, at great risk to everyone around me, to say nothing of myself. It was when I told them that I’d done it for them that they got _really_ angry. If I wanted to die young and stupid, they’d said, then that was my prerogative, but how _dare_ I use other people as an excuse? That I could carry whatever misconceptions I wanted with me to the grave where they’d not bother me, but everyone whose name I supposedly did it in had to live with that responsibility afterwards.

“They were right, of course. I couldn’t see it then; I didn’t understand. I cried, I apologised, I cried some more. I felt guilty as sin. But I didn’t truly comprehend what they’d said to me. After all, what was my godsforsaken life worth to anyone? I never attempted something that grandiose again, but my days were filled with one reckless turn after another. It was selfish, and I knew that now. But when opportunity knocked I would stick my neck out, always wondering if today was the day the axe would fall. A series of insignificant little rebellions for an audience of one.

“It wasn’t until the Calamity that things changed. Just as everyone around me in those days, I had no choice but to make a reckoning with what it meant to really, truly meant to die. There was such a vast difference between throwing caution to the wind in the heat of the moment and those endless days of horrified contemplation. All of a sudden it was out of my hands, death not a choice but an inevitability. It was only by the grace of the Twelve and the countless lives lost at Carteneau that I lived, in the end, and I vowed never to forsake the remaining life that I had been granted.

“It was that day at the Observatorium that the crystal showed me. I felt that same death wish overcome me as if it were happening now. As if the hard lessons of the years since had come to naught.” Of the visions preceding that one, Gabriel said nothing. As Sidurgu had said, they were under no obligation to disclose it. Given the choice, they would live out the rest of their days without speaking of the memories that played so often and so vividly in their mind’s eye. “I can’t survive being that person again, Sid.”

“You think that is why the crystal showed you that day?” he asked.

Gabriel nodded, their face ashen. “The new lease on life granted to me by the Calamity shaded right into mortal terror. The fear that this might all be taken away if I put even a foot wrong. _Cowardice_. A Dark Knight must be prepared to stake everything in defense of their cause, and I can’t very well do that if I’m afraid for my own skin first and foremost, can I?”

Sidurgu searched for words to fill the silence. There was truth in what Gabriel said, though he disagreed in the strongest possible terms with the way they had said it.

“At the same time,” they continued, “I’m no good to anyone dead. And that’s the only way this ends if I have to reawaken whatever it is inside me that fired that arrow ten years ago. The world doesn’t need another dead Dark Knight.”

Barely-formed apologies tumbled out of Gabriel’s mouth in the wake of their last statement. Their mind was scattered still, and they had spoken without thinking. They were mortified.

“Fray did not go to their grave recklessly.” Sidurgu cut them off before they could enter a guilt spiral in earnest. He had rarely spoken so clearly or without hesitation about Fray before, at least as long as Gabriel had known him. From what Rielle had told them, it went back longer than that. “They made a choice, and it isn’t for us to know how they felt about it. The temple knights saw to that.”

“Gods, Sid, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to--”

“Hush, Gabriel. I know you meant nothing untoward by it.” He still had his arm around them, and he gave them a comforting squeeze. “But listen closely to what I have to say about Fray, for it may contain the answers you seek. I should have told you this a long time ago, and for that I apologise. I did a disservice to you. To both of us.

“You are right in assuming that a death wish ill suits a Dark Knight, but as I said, Fray did not die willingly or quietly. You’ve heard the tales, I am sure, of the trial in which they fought as though they were possessed by a demon. You’ve seen more than your share of trials by combat in your time here, so you know as well as anyone that they are a death sentence by any other name. Fray knew this but did not accept it, and they tested the principle to their last breath and then some.

“They made a choice, I said, but it was not a free one. On the one hand, certain arrest and execution thereafter. On the other, fleeing with the temple knights in hot pursuit with nowhere to go but back to Rielle and I. Where, should Halone look unkindly upon us, we might have all three faced the same fate regardless. Their choice was not the pragmatic one; opting to play the odds in the name of self-preservation. But they were not driven by bloodthirst or an appetite for self-destruction. They were driven, in this as in all things, by love.

“It was love that drove their vow to ensure Rielle’s safety at any cost. It was love that gave them the confidence to leave that oath in my hands should they fail. Make no mistake, Gabriel: when I speak of love, I speak of something that was furious and unforgiving more often than not. Fray was hurt by the world in ways that would grant them every right to turn their back on it. For them, love was the conscious choice to share in the pain of others and fight back against the source, even when doing so opened them to being hurt further.

“A conscious choice that also kept their darkside in check. There was a part of Fray that _had so_ turned its back, and it gave rise to impossible anger in them. I could see it in them when we were in battle together, where it would come over them in waves of violent hatred until it seemed as though they could see nothing but their nearest opponent, and would not stop until every one of them was dead. Through all that, though, they protected me first and above all, and trusted me to do the same for them.

“Rielle, with her astounding insight, could see it in them even at home, in places I could not. Fray would not speak of it to us in any but the broadest possible terms. Where my own demons would spill out from time to time under duress, they kept theirs under lock and key until called on. They never found peace in life, but they found acceptance and, in acceptance, control. Knowing that even their unchecked rage and selfishness had a place, a purpose, brought them some sense of comfort.

“Thus, while they preferred to present only one side of themself to their loved ones, there could not be one without the other. Even should you choose to stray from the path before you, Gabriel, it’s this that I want you to understand. You need not turn it to the same ends, but you can still find room in your heart for the part of you that charged into battle that day in Coerthas. Fray did, and more than a powerful knight, it made them one of the most driven and caring people I’ve ever had the privilege of knowing.” Sidurgu’s voice sounded husky and faltering by the time he finished. “Forgive me. I’ve not spoken at such length in some time.”

“There’s nothing that will ever fill the void they left, is there,” said Gabriel. They were leaning their head against Sidurgu’s chest. They still felt as though they might collapse without his weight supporting them.

“No. There isn’t. But,” Sidurgu added, “neither they nor I would want that, regardless. Fray believed in pressing forward in spite of everything. And they saw that which was vital and personal in everyone they loved. When I lost everything, it was only with Fray’s help that I learned to honour the dead without forsaking the living. When I lost them, it fell to me to keep that lesson alive, more than ever.”

“I only wish I could have met them.”

“Likewise. By Halone, I wish you could. They would have loved you, Gabriel, as they loved so many. They would have loved you in your fearless vulnerability as they would have loved you in the strength you exhibit on behalf of others. They would have loved the fire in you. And, if they can see me now, then I know they love the fire you lit in me, too.”

“You really think so?”

“I do, from the bottom of my heart.” Sidurgu made a silent prayer of thanks that Gabriel was not looking at him to see the tears forming at the corners of his eyes. “Can I ask you one last question, Gabriel?”

“Hm?”

“You once told me you left everything behind when you came to Coerthas.”

“I did.”

“Fray would never have been the person they were without myself or our master, and in time Rielle. Nor would I be here sitting with you without the three of them. And whatever the future may hold, I know I want you to be beside me when it arrives. You say you cannot be the person you were at that time in your life, when you had nothing. So I ask you, do you have nothing still?”

Gabriel thought again about that lost, hopeless, and above all lonely child. They thought too on their present circumstances; on the things that now gave their life the purpose it had been missing then. They thought on the kind and generous strangers who had helped them to where they are today. On the friends who loved them when they could not love themselves. On the family they had so unexpectedly found for themself in Ishgard. By the time they had finished thinking, they had already come to a decision. It was time to bring that lost child home.


End file.
